Visible
by Sinnocencex
Summary: Hiding. Running. They are useless and now that the 99th Hunger Games has approached, the Districts enter another state of unrest under the oppressive rule of President Snow. Another girl, another death sentence? Maybe not, because for Robyn Albourne she has all the reason to survive. Yes, survival is key, but is losing herself in the process worth the struggle? (First FanFic)
1. Chapter I

Sunlight barely pierces through the blinds in my room, before Shrieker cackles out. Oh that rooster; how I hate that blasted bird. This happens everyday. I swear it's how my day starts every single time. He was my very own personal alarm clock and he's just a rooster, but sometimes, I think he knows it bothers me. Call me crazy like the others, but I feel like he makes it his personal goal to give me a rude awakening. If it wasn't for Ma's love of that bird, I would've killed, cooked, and ate him by now.

Rolling out of bed, my eyes barely open, I search for my boots. When I get ahold of them I put them on. No shower for me this morning. I would milk the cows first, then go to bathhouse and clean myself. My nightdress would have to act as my work clothes too. I'm just too lazy to change. Too tired.

With every loud step, I walk down the hallway to the front door, using the noise as a way to let everyone know it's almost time for school or work. The creaking floorboards help me.

Before I go to the barn I wake up Rufus. He's our dog and act's as a farmhand as well. Rufus yawns and stretches, then runs out the door to the sheep stead. He would let them out for them to graze, and then later I would herd them back into the stead. When it was noon Rufus would let them out again. I tried training him to herd them himself, to take some work off my load, but he never got it. It was a waste a time, trying to train him but his ability to let them out was good enough. I put some stale goose meat in his dish and a bone for when he returns.

I step outside and breathe in the morning air. It's enough for me to shake off some of my weariness. Trudging to the barn, I look out to the east of our farm and see the sheep grazing. Rufus worked fast.

Grabbing the metal pails from side of the barn, I enter and sigh. The cow's turn to me and give me looks of distaste. Their "moos," basically telling me to "go away." Too bad, it was milking day, they would have to deal with it. The process is easy. I've essentially mastered milking the cows, but it always takes a long time and after about an hour my hands feel sore. Then, sadly, this was only the beginning of my chores. After completing all my chores for day my entire body would be sore and pleading for rest.

This is how it is for me in District 10. A working life. I've been working on this farm since I was 10 and it never gets easier, even as I get older. I'm 17 now, and sure I got stronger and learned to endure but it never gets easier. I was the oldest of nine children. From the moment I was born my life was going be a difficult one. The oldest child always has it the hardest. Stir in the fact that my family owned one of the largest farms in District 10 and it gets even harder. We've had the farm for so long there are pictures of my Ma's ma on the walls in the den. Sometimes I think we've had it even before the Dark Days. It's not absurd to think it possibly survived the first rebellion, especially after it managed to survive the second one twenty-four years ago.

The farm itself oozes history. Different generations have lived in the house and worked in the fields. The girls in the family would inherit the farm and usually their husbands would join them here.

"We work on this farm until we turn into the soil ourselves," Ma used to tell me. I only understood what she meant when I turned 13 and I saw some of the grave plots of my ancestors, mostly female, in the North side of the farm, by the chicken coops, while collecting eggs for the first time. I have nightmares of being buried there. A lackluster tombstone that's engraved "Robyn Olivia Hunder Albourne," next to my mothers. Scariest part is if history would choose to repeat itself, it was going to happen.

I finish milking the cows, now having four filled pails of the white liquid. I carry them carefully back to the house and when I enter I hear a soft "good morning." I put the pails down and look up at my dad. He's already dressed in overalls and boots ready for today's work. A cap hiding his salt-n-pepper hair. Grey hairs are in his beard. He's only 43 but he looks so much older. His grey eyes don't help either. This farm would make you look older; have you age faster almost.

"Morning," I say.

"Cows treat you nice?" He asks, smiling lightly. Just so you know, I've heard this question just about everyday since I started working full time on the farm. In truth, he's basically asking me if I'm doing okay but, for some strange reason, he can't ask that directly.

"As nice as they usually are," I answer. The conversations I have with my father are usually this dull. We don't exactly have the best relationship. It isn't because of any personal animosities or problems we had with each other but probably because we are always so busy that we don't get much time to spend with each other. I think we're pretty similar actually. We both like to keep to ourselves and I we aren't very talkative in general. We're the silent type, that's all.

"We're going to be busy for the next few days," He tells me.

"Yeah I know, it's always busier during this time of year," I mutter.

My dad shifts uneasily and I curse myself for saying that last part. It was the last thing I should've mentioned.

"So . . . how are you doing?" He goes on. I can hear the anxiety in his voice already. He really doesn't like to ask this question directly.

"Fine Dad, I'm not worried," I try to answer as confidently as I can. It seems to relax him some. He was already stressed with all his farm work. The last thing he needed was to know his daughter was worried about the Hunger Games. Which I wasn't. It was a week away anyway.

"Okay," He sighs. "I had breakfast already so I'm going out to the fields. I'll see you at supper."

"Yea."

"I . . . I love you."

"Love you too Dad."

He leaves through the front door and I exhale softly. I felt sorry for him most of the time. Easton Hunder had married this farm when he married my mother, Claire Albourne. He used to work as a butcher's assistant until he got married and moved into this house. Over the years I guess he got used to doing farm work and eventually began to manage it. Even without the help of his wife.

My mother had left my family about three months ago. She's left us a countless number of times. Whether it was for a few days, a few weeks, or a few months, like now. She would run off to who knows where. Then she would return randomly and every time she did it was like she and my dad would get back together enough just to have another child. Then she would run off again, and leave Ma to take care of the baby with my dad. My dad loves my mom unconditionally, and tried to hide her secrets from us kids for a long time; maybe fearing we wouldn't be able to handle it. But I found out after about the fifth time she left. The others don't know, at least I don't think they do. All they know is mother is sick and can't be with them right now.

The truth is my mother has an addiction to morphling. I can't say where she developed the addiction or how, but it's bad enough for her to leave us constantly. Her children barely know her. Violet doesn't even know what she looks like. I have a hard time remembering myself but Ma tells me she looked like me. Claiming that we have the same features. Dark blonde hair, the same nose, same lips, same ears, cheekbones, and shy smile. We share it all apparently. The only difference is we have different eye color. My eyes are grey, like my father's, and my mothers are a dark ocean blue. I'm happy for the difference. I want to be nothing like her.

"Robyn," I hear my sister, Violet cry out. It seems like ever since she learned how to say my name she would scream it whenever she needed me or wanted something.

"Yes," I cry back.

"I'm hungry."

"I'll make breakfast soon. Go back to sleep for now."

I hear no response and assume she's trying to fall asleep again. Soon the others would be up as well. My day just got harder. I didn't want to cook breakfast today but with Ma still sleeping it looked like I would have to . . . again.

I have eight siblings. In order of age it goes Colton, Eli, Kayden, Nicnic, Easton Jr., Grace, James, and Violet. Colton is 15. Eli is thirteen, Kayden is 12, Nicnic is 10, Easton Jr. is 8, Grace and James, who are twins, are 6 and lastly, Violet is 3.

Each of them has their own unique personality and each of them get on my nerves. You would think the boys would run the house, having us girls outnumbered 6 to 3 not including Ma and my dad but I'm in charge. Being the oldest of the children, along with having the most chores, I have seniority. With my mother being away as well, I've unintentionally become some sort of mother figure to some of them too, even though I'm not the oldest girl in the house. Another responsibility I suppose.

Speaking of responsibilities it was time to check on Colton. I quietly make my way to his room and open the door slowly, peaking in on him. It's no surprise to see him awake, sitting up on his bed, "looking" out the window. His salt-n-pepper hair is a mess.

"Morning Colton," I say softly.

"Hi Robyn," He says back, not shifting, the sunlight keeping him still. This was almost like a ritual he had every morning. He would wake up and stare at the sun through the small circular window in his room. It would never hurt his eyes so I never tell him to stop. Colton is blind. He has a problem with his eyes that doctors, at least the ones here, couldn't fix because they couldn't figure out what caused it. They simply had no explanation for it. All they could say was he would be like this forever. He would never see unless we happened to have a miracle in our pockets. I used to feel bad for him, thinking he'd never be able to experience the world like everyone else did. But over the years my feelings changed as I watched him grow. He was unique and handled everything with such delicacy and care. He can't see, so he feels; understanding and learning things in his own way. Every once in a while he would ask to touch or feel my face and I would let him. His soft hands would feel every inch of my face and I'll admit it was a little weird the first few times but the weirdness went away every time he would tell me that I'm beautiful when he was finished. After awhile I began to envy how he handled himself and how positive he was. Colton was never panicked, or angry, or sad. His usually moods were either mellow, happy, or carefree. Then he also has this sense for adventure that can't be matched by any of us. I would find him in the fields on occasion and he would say, ever so innocently, "I'm not lost, just not where I thought I would be." His spirit was something to truly marvel. I know it's not good to choose favorites but out of my brothers and sisters, Colton was my favorite. He's the least annoying out of them all.

"Breakfast is in a few," I say to him.

"Okay, I'll come out when I smell it," He answers. I shut the door behind me and go back to the kitchen.

For the next few I minutes I pour milk in containers that would be sent out to the Capitol. The rest of the milk I put in a jug, which would be for us to drink. If I was lucky it would last the day. I wash out the metal pails and put them outside to air dry. Next I go to the icebox and take out a dozen eggs. Today's breakfast would be eggs and left over chicken, with milk to drink. There was enough gasoline in the stove to cook the eggs thoroughly so I decide to make omelets.

It takes awhile but the finish products look excellent. Nine plates of omelets and chicken set on the table. I don't make myself a plate because I'm not feeling hungry and I rather take a shower. I smelled like food and sweat, which wasn't the greatest combination.

"Breakfast!" I yell. After a few seconds I begin to hear the pitter-patter of feet moving, then doors opening. I leave before I see all of them. As I exit through the back door to go to the bathhouse, right before I close the door behind me, I hear Grace scream out "omelets!" It slipped my mind that they were her favorite. Or maybe it didn't. Maybe my subconscious had me cook it especially for her because it could be the last time I do.

— —

The water is lukewarm today, better than it was the past few days. As is runs down my body, I finally begin to feel at ease. This was always my favorite part of the day. I realize my hair is still tied up with a ribbon and decide to let it out. It was a couple of days since I last washed it and I needed to get rid of the egg smell. I pull at the ribbon and instantly my hair falls down. The back is easily long enough to reach the middle of my back and the front enough to cover my breasts. Is it strange to hate that my hair is long? Ma and my sisters argue it is. They think it's beautiful but I prefer to tie it up and make it look short. I always liked how it looked short. It was different. Nothing like my mothers.

Maybe that's why I hated it. It made me look even more like my mother.

I adjust the showerhead so that the water is raining down on the top of my head. Then I use a cloth and the small bar of soap to scrub my hair, while monitoring the soap so that I don't use too much of it. It was one of the more expensive necessities. In town it would take a trade of three dozen eggs or two healthy chickens to get a bar of soap, and that was on a good day.

When I'm satisfied with my hair, I turn off the water and grab my towel, quickly wrapping it around my body. I prefer to let my hair air dry then to be naked. Trying to dry my hair manually would take plenty of time and with the chores I had to complete today, I have none to waste with my pesky hair. As I walk back to my room I begin to think about all the things I would have to do today.

My to-do list was especially long because of the Hunger Games. District 10 was always asked to produce more around this time. Capitol people seemed to get a larger appetite whenever the Games came around and it only made my chores harder.

Herd the sheep, let the cows graze, then herd them, feed the chickens, collect their eggs to take to the Square to trade and sell, pick vegetables that would be sent to the Capitol, find something for the pigs to eat and fix their barn, go to Square and actually sell the eggs, walk back home, cook dinner, then clean my younger siblings before bed.

I grab my work shirt and shorts from the rack and sigh. The ease that my shower gave me is gone. It definitely wasn't going to be an easy day, but then again; it never is.


	2. Chapter II

The Square is located at the outer most part of District 10 and very far away from my families farm. It's home to many businesses and many people. You can trade or buy just about anything here, almost like a shopping district. Find the right people, know your price, find out theirs, know how to negotiate and you'd get by. I've been trading at the Square for almost seven years now, starting shortly after my tenth birthday, and I know the game and how to play it. See the people in District 10 are very simple, or at least to me they are. We all have the same needs; you'll always have something someone else wants and vice versa.

For example today when Lucy from the butchers asked me for a dozen eggs in exchange for a pound of chicken meat, I laughed. It's a complicated system really, but a dozen eggs could get me about ten pounds of chicken meat and a loaf of bread. We negotiated, as usually I lead, and I managed to get three pounds of chicken meat for three eggs. I threw in a small container of milk just because Lucy has a baby at home. Which is pretty generous around these parts, especially if you're doing business.

Now when I went to the baker, things worked out a little differently. I needed three loafs of bread. Actually two but with the Hunger Games coming up, it wouldn't hurt to have an extra. Bread is in a kind of a high demand right now, I have no idea why but it jacked up the prices. I ended up trading five bottles of milk for three and a half loafs of bread. A rip off, I know, but the baker has a second client for milk which makes bargaining difficult. I'll get him next time though. Robyn Albourne doesn't get duped twice.

Anyway, as you can see, theres a system to the Square. Whenever you were here you wanted to either get the better bargain or have a square deal at the least. Ma says this is where it gets its name.

Most of the people who work or come to the Square are usually looking to make a deal, sell, or buy goods as I said before. However, according to Ma and my father, the Square has changed since the second rebellion. An increased number of Peacekeepers have been tasked to keep the Square under control. To me the amount of Peacekeepers has been the same but I wasn't around before the second rebellion. You would see maybe seven of them in the Square today, while Ma said there used to be no more than two at a time. It may be because of the Capitol laws that were put in effect after the rebellion. It could also be because the Square was also home to a good amount of people. Some of them who were rebels that fought in the Mockingjay uprising. I won't lie, I know a few rebels who live here myself but I would never give them in, even for the reward that the Capitol gave. "A month of grain and oil for each member of the household of a person who turns in a Mockingjay rebel." It was even more if you turned in a high ranking officer but here in the Square, and District 10 in general, we would never turn in a rebel. If we saw one, we saw them with blind eyes. We stand neutral even now. Truth is they are just like us now. Scraping by, just trying to live each day. They may have it a little harder though. Avoiding Peacekeepers wasn't very easy especially if you weren't familiar with the area and if they caught you … good luck.

I remember when an unlucky girl from District 8 was caught. It wasn't too long ago, maybe six months, maybe a little more, when she was dragged through the streets by her hair by the Head Peacekeeper. She was screaming, crying, begging for help and mercy. It never came though. She was tied to a post in the middle of the Square, stripped of all her clothes, then violently beaten. It was painful just to watch. The Peacekeeper left her there, naked, tied to the post, bleeding to death. Publicly humiliated at that. At first no one went near her, no one dared to get close, probably because of fear that they would be next. Slowly though, with the first action being an older woman giving her a drink of water, people tried to do what they could. It was obvious she would die, she was losing too much blood, but they did what they could to make sure she didn't suffer anymore. All I could think was "what did she do to deserve this?" I didn't stay to watch her die. It wasn't something I wanted to see.

Still, I see her in the faces of the people I know who aren't from District 10. I know that if caught, they could face the same consequences like she did of their caught. I wonder if they worry about being caught one day. It would definitely worry me.

As I leave the Square, with all of the goods I got today in a basket underneath my arm, my thoughts wander. From thinking about my siblings, to what I'm going to cook, to the Reaping.

I'm picturing the giant pink ball when a voice snaps me out of the image and back to reality. A voice I'm not too excited to hear either.

"Robyn!" I look to my left and see Korran, a strand of wheat hanging lazily from his mouth. He's grinning from ear to ear and I immediately feel the bile begin to rise from my stomach.

"What do you want?" I look away from him now, hoping that it would ease the nausea or at least the annoyance that his face brought to me every time I saw him.

"Nothing in particular, it's just wonderful to be in the presence of the wonderful Robyn is all."

His voice is patronizing and annoying. If it wasn't for the fact that I pitied him, I wouldn't even speak to Korran. He's not from District 10, at least not originally. His complexion is too pale and theres not a single person in District 10 with green eyes like his. With those two attributes along with a few other things, I knew he wasn't from here. So when he told me he was from District 13 I wasn't too surprised. He and his mother had escaped from District 13 when the rebellion was almost over and made it here to District 10 when he was still young. His mother had been captured and taken to the Capitol shortly after but made sure he was hidden away before. Korran didn't explain anymore after that but it was easy enough based on talking to him and other people like him to know what his life was like. Being a orphan and the son of a rebel, one that he claimed was important, couldn't be easy. Sometimes I would see him around the Square, trying to find something to eat. Most of the time stealing to get it.

"I'm not in the mood today Korran."

"You're never in the mood dearest."

"Don't call me that."

He runs after me and bumps me a little. I look down instinctively and not to much surprise, a bottle of milk is missing from my basket and is now in his possession. I look up at his almost unbearable conniving face, pissed off at him and snatch it back. His smile gets wider.

"Korran!"

"Pretty please, you don't need that one bottle of milk!"

"Who says I don't? A low life like you with no brains?"

"It's obvious beautiful."

I clench my fist in preparation of his next few words, already knowing exactly what he would say. He's said it before. I mean over and over again. Almost every time I saw him he would say it.

"A _full-breasted robin_, like you —"

Before he can finish his sentence, my fist hits his jaw, hard, and he falls to the ground, covering his perverted mouth.

"I said not to call me that you deviant!"

When he gets back to his feet, and drops his hand from his mouth, I'm disappointed to see he's still smiling even with blood smeared on his teeth now.

"But they're so big you could —"

My fist connects with his jaw again and he falls back to the ground, spitting blood this time, his lip bleeding. His smile returns and I curse. It may be pity or the fact that I know he'll pester me later and he wouldn't stop till he got it but I toss him the half loaf of bread I got from the baker and make my way back to the farm undisturbed.

At the door I'm greeted by Ma, who's sweeping the front porch. Cleaning was usually what she did. It took some weight off my shoulders and it keeps her active. Ma didn't like to sit down unless she was telling the children a story. She was always on her feet unless she was asleep. I hope when I'm her age I have her will to keep going, to keep moving, even after years of restless work.

"How'd they treat you?" She asks, taking to the basket from me to inspect my spoils.

"Fine, the baker stiffed me though."

"You win some and you lose some."

"I'll get him next time though, as soon as the Games are over."

"Now that's how an Albourne thinks!"

She hands me back the basket and picks back up the broom. The porch looks absolutely spotless to me but Ma always thinks things can be a little cleaner.

"I'm going inside to start dinner."

"Of course dear, when I'm finish here, I'll set the table."

Stepping inside, I'm not surprised to hear the obnoxiously loud sounds of "play." My siblings, all except for maybe Colton, were nothing like my father or I. The quiet nature my father, oldest brother, and I tend to have, has stopped with us. The others are noisy, loud, and off the charts troublesome.

Grace comes running into the kitchen, almost knocking me over, doing a combination of screaming and crying, whether it's positive or negative, I have no clue. Soon behind her comes Nicnic holding what looks like a frog and he has a devious grin on his face. So the screaming is negative. He's almost past me when I trip him and he falls flat on his face, dropping the frog. He rolls over, dazed, whining, and looks at me for an answer. I give him a simple stern look that says "stop it!"

"_Robyn_," He cries and I see the tears forming in his eyes. Okay, maybe he fell a little harder than I would've liked but he had it coming. Grace is afraid of everything that moves, he should know better than to be messing with her like that.

"Get up and tell everyone to get ready for dinner," I say.

"Okay," He sobs, standing up and holding the side of his face.

"Do you know where dad is?"

"He said he was going to the Justice Building and not to wait up."

"Why was he going there?"

"Didn't say," He shrugs, then runs off to tell the others to wash up for supper.

I didn't like this. There's nothing I think of that my father could be going to the Justice Building for. At least nothing good. The last time I went to the Justice Building it wasn't good. Actually I don't think anything good comes from the Justice Building. Not even tesserae.

— —

"Dinner!" I call out, finally finished preparing the last meal of the day. Chicken, bread, mashed potatoes, and carrots would be tonights feast. Ma has already finished setting the table and it isn't long before the children round the table, all washed up, ready to eat. My father takes his place at the head of the table, back from the Justice Building. I still don't know why he went. When he returned, I mentioned it but he gave me a cold shoulder. As I thought, it wasn't something good.

We all sit and Ma starts dishing for the youngest children. I waste no time filling my plate, absolutely ravenous. Skipping breakfast was really a bad idea, especially because of the day I had.

"You're awfully hungry," Eli utters.

"Yes, I haven't eaten almost all day," I say to the inquisitive teen.

"Robyn has to eat a whole lot so she can feed her baby birds," Violet jokes. Ma has read to her a book on birds and their behavior. Apparently there was a part on robins and feeding hatchlings. She's been mentioning it ever since.

"I don't have any baby birds Violet, you do know I'm not an actual bird right?"

She smiles and takes a bite of her potatoes. Seriously I think she might actually think I'm a bird.

"You will have baby birds one day though," Ma chimes in, winking at me.

"I don't know about that," I wince. The idea of having my own "baby birds" didn't really interest me. Having to take care of seven younger brothers and sisters wiped those thoughts away before they even formed.

"Give it some time," Ma persists. "One of Mr. Hoover's boys is about your age, maybe a little older."

The idea of marrying a Hoover boy almost makes me spit back out my carrots. I can do _way_ better than a Hoover. Just the thought of marrying one of them makes me want to push away my plate. Seriously, I rather marry Korran than a Hoover. He may be an orphan but at least his teeth weren't crooked.

"She's still a little young to be thinking about … _that_," My dad speaks up, thankfully.

"Not too young Easton," Ma continues, obviously enjoying the topic,"she's seventeen now. This was the time to start lining out your prospects in my day."

"It's been a long time since your time Ma," I say.

"Maybe, but you're developing into a beautiful young lady Robyn and it's only a matter of time before suitors come knocking."

"And when they do," I raise my knife in the air, "I'll tell them to go away."

"That's if they reach that far," My dad says. "They'll have to ask me for my permission first before they even get near you."

"You better stay out of this girls affairs Easton, I want to see great grandchildren before I close my eyes for the last time and I refuse to let you stand in the way of it," Ma declares.

"Can we please change the topic?" I ask, almost begging really.

"I think Robyn would make an excellent mother," Colton pipes in now. Great.

"Yes, Robyn will feed all her baby birds!" Violent screams. Okay, I think she really believes I'm a bird.

"Robyn's too mean to be a good mother," Nicnic says. "She tripped me for no reason today."

"You were chasing Grace with a frog in your hands, you had it coming," I tell him.

"Yeah, you're mean Nicnic!" Grace agrees.

"Maybe but mom would never trip me like you did!"

"Please how would you know? She's never around," I respond before I can stop myself or think about what I'm saying. The cold silence and sad faces is my punishment. I can't even look at my dad. The last bits of food on my plate don't look appetizing anymore. More than that I can't stand the silence. I excuse myself from the table after a few minutes, put my plate in the sink and then proceed to my room to loathe at my stupid, completely unadvised comment.

Sure, in reality I meant every word but I know better than to say it out loud in front of my family. They didn't need to hear that, even though some of them may be thinking it. This is why I preferred to be silent and alone. When you're quiet you can never say the wrong thing. Never make a mistake. You go unnoticed and I like that.

But at the same time, I hate it. At the same time, I know that I'm distancing myself from people and slowly becoming an introvert or wallflower. My family is all I have and distancing myself from them doesn't have any positives.

If you want proof … well just ask my mother, that is, if you can find her.


	3. Chapter III

Funny how quickly a week can go by. In the blink of an eye the Reaping for the 99th Annual Hunger Games has approached. I've been trying to keep it out of my thoughts for most of the week but from late last night to now in the early morning it's all I've thought about it. My siblings are worried too. It explains why almost all of them are jammed into my bed, every few minutes kicking for space. I don't mind though. It's nice to be here with them. To cuddle with Violet and stroke her hair for what could be the last time. To listen to James and Nicnic lightly snoring in an almost comedic unison. Even hearing that bloody rooster cackle is bearable today.

It's all a little comforting but still, I can't help but think of that big what if. What if my name is taken out of that irritatingly pink reaping ball. I'm not sure what I'll do. Run? Not likely as Peacekeepers would be ready to pull me onstage. Running is never an option.

For the sake of my siblings, my father, and Ma, I would have to keep from worrying, even if it was just an act. It wasn't just me who could be cursed into the Hunger Games either. Eli, Kayden, and even Colton were eligible. I wonder if it worried them. Colton is lucky to never have seen a Hunger Games but I'm sure he still has an idea about it. He's too smart not to know. Eli was still acting like his inquisitive, smart aleck self, so I don't think it's bothering him too much. At least if it is, he's not showing any visible signs. Maybe he could teach me how. Kayden on the other hand was pretty quiet yesterday. I can almost guarantee he's worried. It's his first year of eligibility and I remember my first year. Finding sleep the night before was impossible. At least he didn't take tesserae, so his odds of selection are way lower than Eli and mine. His name would be on only one slip of paper.

Violet shifts and I let her go, kissing her lightly on the cheek before. I carefully make my way out of my sibling packed bed, making sure not to wake any of them. Leaving the room without making a sound, I walk to the kitchen and I'm pleasantly surprised to smell food. Ma has taken the liberty to make the household breakfast this morning.

"Good morning Robyn," She says, at the same time pouring more batter into a frying pan. Ma making pancakes was something rare.

"Good morning Ma, how are you?" I ask, stepping closer to her to see exactly how she cooks them. This is how I learned to cook most things I do now.

"Fine dear, although I think I should be asking you."

"I'll be fine, if I treat it like another day it'll be easier to get through."

"That's a nice way to think, share it with your brothers. Maybe they'll rest a little easier."

"Do you need any help?"

"Oh no dear, you make breakfast for this family every day, I think I can handle this one."

"Okay."

"You know before you came around, I used to run this house all by myself."

"Well that couldn't be easy," I say with a smile. Thinking of doing every single chore this farm has, seems impossible for just one person.

"Yes Robyn it wasn't, but nothing in this life is ever easy. We face challenges everyday and it's our job to overcome them. When you do, you're going to come out stronger than you were before."

"I'd prefer to have everything come easy, it works for the Capitol and their people," I disagree.

"It looks that way from our perspective but you never know what it's like from theirs."

"How they're living, I think I can get a very close picture."

"If that's how you see it," Ma says, flipping a pancake out of a pan and onto a plate. "Anyway, go wash up, you have a long day ahead of you."

"I always do."

— —

The bathe water is cold today. I don't spend too long in the shower because the others will be right after me. If I could, I would just spend the entire day in here though. Wallowing in cold water beat going to a reaping for the Hunger Games any day of the week.

When I get back to my room, a dress is already laid out on my now sibling less bed. Ma must've picked it out and I recognize it because it's one of my mothers old ones. Having her hand me downs was always a bother to me but this dress was an exception. Its a light blue dress with white polk-a-dots and small buttons lining the back. Typically not my "style" but strangely I like it. It's different.

I've almost got it on when I hear a light knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I ask.

"It's Grace, can I come in please?"

I ponder it for a second, then open the door letting her in, quickly locking the door back after. Not wanting anymore interruptions.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

"Getting ready."

"Is today the day when everyone stands next to each other?"

"Yes."

"Oh." The look on her face is crushing. I'm sure Grace doesn't know the exact details of the Reaping or the Hunger Games for that matter but she has an idea. She knows when "everyone stands next to each other" it's not good. For a six year old that was enough.

"Do you want to help me get dressed?" I ask trying to cheer her up. She always wants to help me, no matter what I was doing unless it involved animals.

She nods eagerly, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Here," I say picking her up then putting her to stand up on my bed. "Help me with the buttons."

I watch her from the mirror, carefully trying to hook the buttons. She messes up a few times but after a about a minute she clips them all together. I look at myself and feel satisfied. The dress fit almost too perfectly, like it was made for my exact shape.

"You look beautiful," Grace whispers. Her expression from before has returned.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you."

"No!" She frowns. "You're prettier, you look just like mommy."

I bite my lip. She meant it as a compliment but still.

"You really think so?"

"Yes!"

"Well to me you look just like mom."

The little surprised look she has is cute.

"No, you're just saying that," She denies, but based on her new expression I know I've got her.

"No, really" I go on. "Come down and I'll show you."

She steps down off the bed and I lead her in front of me, so that she's facing the mirror. Next I stoop down behind her so we're the same level.

"Now what do you see?" I ask her.

"Myself." She answers, a bit confused.

"Look at your nose, isn't it just like moms?"

"Yes."

"And look at your skin. Isn't it the same colors as moms?"

"Yeah."

"Now look at your eyes. What color are they?"

"Blue."

"Just like mom's right?"

"Yes."

"So, don't you look just like mom does?"

"Yes—," She starts off, "— but my hair is dark and short. Your hair is just like mommy's and long."

"Grace," I say gently, feeling like this is the hundredth time I've said these words to her. "You're only six years old. Your hair is going to grow long when you're a little older. And you know what?"

"What?"

"My hair was shorter than yours when I was your age," I lie. "Then I grew up and now it's long."

"But—"

"But what?"

"Your hair is the same color as mommy's."

"Yet yours is just as beautiful if not more."

She's quiet for awhile, then she turns to me. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

She's quiet again.

"Robyn?"

"Yes Grace."

"When is mommy coming back?"

"I—"

Between the look in her eyes and the feeling I have in my chest, I just can't tell her the truth as much as I hate lying to her. Twice.

"—Soon Grace, soon."

— —

Breakfast is quiet but I let the reason why be because the pancakes Ma made are delicious. The alternative is harder to deal with. In actuality the pancakes really are delicious, especially with the maple syrup and strawberry jam my dad brought in. Soft and sweet, the textures, the flavors, they are all very tasty. It takes a look of worry from Eli to stop me from gorging myself anymore.

When we're all finish, my dad looks at me, then my brothers who are going to the Reaping.

"Are you all ready?" He asks.

The question is interesting in that it could be interpreted in many ways. Yet each way the answer is always no. How is someone ever ready to go to a reaping? No matter who you are, there is nothing that can prepare you for the Hunger Games. Whether you're a Career tribute from District 1 or a child from District 12, you'll never be ready. The reaping always seemed like a warmup for the games, which I guess it is. But even the warmup isn't something you can prepare for. It was completely random. At least the ending was always the same. Twenty-three would die. One would live and be crowned "victor."

—- —-

Walking to the Justice Building, the mood is the same like it was at the breakfast table. Nothing but silence. I make more than awkward eye contact, every few seconds, with other children who are going. Some people I haven't seen since I was in school. I didn't have many friends but it's still nice to see how some of my peers have grown, although I do wish it were under better circumstances.

— —

The Peacekeeper pricks my finger, stamps the paper with my blood, and tells me to stand in the second row. Last year I thought I was close to the podium but this year it's worse. Being that my last name begins with an A, I was always in front on the line in my age group. It was a curse and not just for me either. Colton, Eli, and Kayden are all likely to be standing in the same spot I am, in their respective age groups. I would much rather be in the back or simply out of sight for the camera's. The "extravaganza" that is the reaping for the Hunger Games, has brought out more cameras than I want to count. There are even more Peacekeepers. Over the past few years they've taken the reaping as an opportunity to not only measure the population, but to also find rebels living in the District's and their children. They would have to hide somewhere and in District 10 it had to be someplace other than the Square. The Peacekeepers would check there first. As much as I find him annoying, I hope Korran avoids getting captured. He's a nuisance but he doesn't deserve that. No one does.

— —

Iris Amos, one of my very few friends from school takes her place next to me as the Reaping is about to begin. Sometimes I think the only reason we're friends is because we've always had to stand or sit next to each other in school or now. Not the best way to form a friendship but you can't say it wasn't unique. She brushes the seams of her dress, which is blue like mine except it has stripes. We exchange small smiles as a greeting. Talking was now out of the question and we both understood that. Iris mouths something that I interpret as "you look pretty." I respond similarly mouthing back "I love your dress." This is the first "conversation" we've had for months.

— —

Mayor Suill steps onto the stage. The screens turn on, the lights turn on and the Reaping is underway. Here we go.

"Good morning District 10 and good morning to all the citizens of our great nation of Panem watching at home!" Mayor Suill's voice is booming through the microphone. I've always hated how loud they were. There was no need. You could whisper and everyone would hear you. It's that silent.

"Welcome to the 99th annual Hunger Games! I know you all, as am I, are all excited for the spectacular event that is only a few days away! One lucky girl and boy from here in our very own District 10 will be chosen to represent us in the Hunger Games and hopefully be crowned victor! But first, before we select that lucky boy and lucky girl, it's time for the honorary reciting of the Treaty of Treason and the Mockingjay Manifest."

On the screens the video plays, showing dark and graphic images of the Dark Days, then the first rebellion, then the Mockingjay Uprising. An audio recording of the Treaty of Treason being read by President Snow plays too. When that's over Mayor Suill reads the Mockingjay Manifest and an image of Katniss Everdeen is shown on the monitors, followed promptly by a video of her public execution in the Presidents mansion in the Capitol. This part has always made me sick. The way her neck abruptly snaps in the final moment is what really makes me shudder. It's something you can never get use to seeing. No matter how many times it plays. Why would they even have something like that televised?

"Now with the reciting completed, I would like to turn the microphone over to the District 10 escort Mary Heartgold!"

Mayor Suill steps back. From behind him comes the short mess of a woman, covered in yellow feathers, a pink tail, and bright pink lip stick, that is Mary Heartgold.

"Hello District 10," She hollers into the mic. "How are we all feeling today?"

In unison all the children, as we were trained to in school everyday to, say, "Honored that we may have the opportunity to participate in the Hunger Games for the Capitol and President Snow!"

"Very well then," Mary continues, smiling eagerly. I notice the whiskers on her face now. "You all will be surprised to know the selection process has changed. The Capitol has decided to unveil a new system for choosing a tribute this year, as a sort of trial run for next years Quarter Quell that I'm sure we are all looking forward to as much, if not more, than this years Hunger Games!"

I haven't been paying very close attention or I would've noticed that the pink and blue reaping balls that usually stood next to each other weren't on the podium. Instead there is one pink lever and one blue lever on the podium. This was really new. When Mary explains the "new system," I make sure I'm all ears because it might not be the last time I'm seeing it.

"How it'll work is, I will pull on the levers you see here. The pink for girls and the blue, obviously, for boys. All of your beautiful names are already registered into a computer program, as many times as they should be, and the computer will randomly select one. Very high-tech and innovative don't you think?"

Murmurs and whispers erupt in the crowd. Even Iris and I exchange confused glances at each other.

"Well I can tell you all are very excited to see the new amazing reaping system in action, so why don't we begin then hmmm? Ladies first as always! Oh and may the odds now and forever be in your glorious favor!"

Mary steps over to the pink lever and the lights dim for dramatic effect. She grabs ahold of the pink lever.

"How about a little count down, to make things a little sexier? Here goes! One … Two … Three!"

She pulls the level then instantly on the screens, before I can even realize that Mary doesn't know what a count _down_ is, hundreds of names begin to flutter by that are unreadable because of the speed. A ticking nose, like a clock, comes out of the speakers as the names go by.

It begins to slow down . . . a little more readable … tick tick tick tick . . . a little more … tick tick tick . . . even slower . . . tick tick . . . it's almost stopped . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick . . . stopped.

I read the name of the next unlucky soul that would be in the Hunger Games at the same time Mary Heartgold says it into the microphone.

"Robyn Albourne."

That's funny, isn't that my name? I look at Iris again but she isn't laughing. She looks worried.

No one is laughing.

It's quiet like before.

Silent.

— —

Two Peacekeepers grab me by each arm and pull me onto the podium.

They aren't laughing.

I'm standing next to Mary Heartgold now, the escort of District 10. She's smiling at me. At least she thinks it's funny. I think I'm smiling too. I don't know for sure though. I can't feel anything right now. Or hear anything.

Mary turns back to the crowd and talks into the microphone again. She pulls the blue lever. Everyone is looking at the screens. I do too.

The name appears. Everyone reads it. I do too.

"Flynn Garrison."

A boy is pulled onto the stage by Peacekeepers just like I was.

He looks nervous and young.

We shake hands. His hands are sweaty or are mine? At least I think I'm feeling something.

The Peacekeepers pull me into the Justice Building. I've been in here once, when I was twelve and I signed up for tesserae to help feed my siblings. I wish I hadn't.

They separate me and the boy.

I'm pushed into a big room and the doors close shut. I think I can hear again. If I can then I hear the doors lock.

— —

I wait for the doors to open again.

Theres water on my face. I feel it now.

No.

It's not water.

Are they tears?

Yes.

Tears?

Yes definitely tears.

Tears aren't funny. These tears aren't funny.

Neither is dying. People die in the Hunger Games.

I'm going to die.


	4. Chapter IV

Tears are no longer streaming down my face and I think my brain is actually functioning. Albeit the only thing I can think about is my now imminent mortality.

I've had a lot of time to think, since the Peacekeepers locked me in this room. Between my hysteria and then actually calming down, I've lost track of time. Hours is what it feels like but for all I know it could've only been a few minutes. This room is filled with furniture but it doesn't have a clock. Three sofas but not a single clock. Fascinating.

There's a knock at the door and I look up excitedly. Were they letting me out? Wait. That would be bad news.

The door unlocks and opens. My father, Ma, and all the kids come bursting in. Before I can even stand they're all huddled around me. I'm happy to see them all. It makes saying goodbye much easier.

None of them say anything at first. Maybe it's now beginning to settle in for them, that my fate had been sealed. It's settled in for me.

"I tried —," My father begins to say, breaking the silence. "I begged them to remove your name."

"Remove my name from what?" I ask him, hearing the frustration in his voice. It isn't like my father to get flustered.

"The tesserae," He mutters. "I tried but the bastards wouldn't listen. If I could've got them to take away all the extra times your name was in it maybe —, maybe we wouldn't be here."

"Thanks for trying," is all I can say. At the very least it gives me clearance on why he went to the Justice Building last week.

Ma takes a seat next to me on the sofa, the puts one arm around me.

"You're going to be just fine," She whispers. I can hear the strain in her voice. "If I could, I would take your place. You're so young Robyn. But I know, I just know, you'll be fine."

"I'm not so sure," I say turning to her. The tears in her eyes tells me she's not so sure either.

"You'll do your best," She says. "Take this with you to remember what you'll be fighting for."

Ma hands me a silver necklace. It's familiar. Very familiar. It belongs to my mother. Every time I've seen her, she was wearing it. How'd Ma get this? The metal is cold and smooth. I fix my attention to the heart charm on it. I rub it and feel it release or open just like when my mother would do it. Inside it is a picture of the family. A very old one. The day it was taken feels like yesterday though. It's the day Violet was brought home from the hospital. She's a small baby and cradled in my mothers arms. A then three year old Grace is at my mothers side. I'm to the left of my mother, not smiling for the camera. I never liked to smile for those family pictures or even when it was picture day at school. The only real difference between me then and now is I'm taller and body is more developed. For three years I grew considerably but so has everyone else in the picture. My brothers have grown in height. Ma and my father have grown in age. I still don't smile in photos.

From outside the doors a Peacekeeper yells "two minutes" and it brings me back to the present. I close the locket and snap it around my neck. I'm sure I look even more like my mother now but I don't care. I had two minutes more with my family.

Had I really run out of time that quickly? I planned on saying goodbyes but now I can't think of anything to say. How do I explain that I was taking a one way trip to the Capitol to children?

"Robyn," Colton says suddenly, snapping me back once again to reality. "Are you going to be in the Hunger Games?"

His voice is so calm, almost lifeless.

"Yes," I answer, not knowing how he'd react.

"I think you'll be back," He utters, with no emotion like before.

"Where are you going?" Grace asks now. Her face is full of concern and fear. She already had an idea.

"I'm going away for a little while Grace," I say softly. She doesn't take it well. It's evident from the tears falling off her face.

"No, I don't want you to go anywhere!" She screams, forcefully hugging me.

I wrap my arms around her and embrace her. She's shaking.

"It's just for a little while," I try to explain.

"No! Mommy isn't here and you can't go too!"

She squeezes me tighter.

"Grace, I won't be gone for too long."

She looks up at me, eyes wide and puffy from crying. "Do you promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

I can feel her body relax a little, as she stops squeezing me and uses one hand to wipe her face.

"When I come back, I'll take you to the Square with me," I add on, hoping that she'd smile at this proposal. It works.

The Peacekeepers open the door. I'm out of time. Rushing to make sure no one is left out, I hug everyone one last time. I get teary reactions from Kayden, Nicnic, James, and Violet. Violet who doesn't understand why I'm leaving doesn't want to let me go. Which in turn almost brings me to tears but I refuse to cry anymore. Shedding anymore tears would be a waste, as well as do me no good. Instead I tell her that I have to go "feed my baby birds" and that I'd be back soon. Her response is iffy but it's enough for her to let me go.

"Alright times up!" A Peacekeeper yells. He begins to pull me out of the room. I look back at their faces one last time. I'm sure I have so much more to say but I can't think of anything. The situation has left me speechless. Hopefully the hugs and kisses were enough.

The doors close and I'm separated from them, for what could be, forever.

I'm escorted out of the Justice Building and taken outside to an empty field. The other tribute is already here and so is Mary, who looks absolutely excited. I wish I could say the same for Flynn but he looks in worse condition then I was in.

After about ten minutes of standing aimlessly in the field. a Capitol airship arrives above us. The only times I have seen them is on Reaping days. They would always be flying in the air right after. Taking another two young citizens from our District to the Capitol to eventually die. Now I would possibly be one of them.

The Peacekeepers pull us back making sure we aren't accidentally crushed before the games, as the large metal flying machine descends to the ground. In seconds after it lands we're taken aboard. They show us where we would sleep, where we would eat, and where we could "entertain ourselves." Other than these places we were not allowed anyplace else on the ship. They even don't fail to mention that all crimes conducted on the ship will have the same punishments they would in District Ten. Essentially saying even though we'd be thirty thousand feet in the air we could still be beaten if we break the rules.

They leave us in the dining room of the ship and then go off someplace else.

We are to wait for our mentor I suppose. I only see him out the corner of my eye but even so, I can see Flynn fidgeting in his seat. Part of me wants to help him calm down or do something that would make him less jumpy. Part of me doesn't know what would.

"Welcome welcome," a somber looking man says, stepping into the room. His words trying to bring life into what feels like a well furnished graveyard; his expression not helping his cause. It's the one and only Humphrey Sven, a victor of the Hunger Games, and now our mentor.

I know only a little about Humphrey as far as the games. He was eighteen when he won his games. It was the eighty second or eighty third. He's seen rarely around District Ten and mostly keeps himself locked up in his big house in Victor's Village, which is far east of the Square. It's closest to the border and probably very lonely. He's the only one living there. Rumors on Humphrey are just that, rumors, could be true or false. Some of them I hear are positive, some negative. At one time he's secretly giving money to the poorer folks in our District, in some sort of Robin Hood fashion I suppose, which is strictly forbidden by the Capitol. Other times he's taking in stray women, which may sound positive, but trust me, it definitely is far from.

Looking at the Humphrey Sven in front of me, with slick back black hair, a trimmed beard and a very slim black suit, I'm not entirely sure which one he is. Hopefully not the negative one.

"My name is Humphrey Sven, your mentor, but you can call me Rey if you like."

Humphrey exchanges courteous looks to Flynn and I. It takes me a moment to realize he wants an introduction from us in return. Flynn is quicker to understand.

"My name is Flynn, Flynn Garrison, nice to meet you." Flynn shakes his hand, then puts it back to his side. He's still nervous but he's hiding it a little better. At the very least it's not showing in his voice. It's my turn to introduce myself.

"I'm Robyn Albourne," I say and take his hand. I pretend not to mind when he kisses the top of it.

"Albourne you say?" Humphrey is looking at me with a sort of curiosity in his eye. I'm sure we've never met but he looks at me like we have somehow. I retract my hand uncomfortably and make a mental note to scrub that particular spot later. He recovers. "Vey nice to meet you Robyn."

"Wish I could say the same." It's edgy, potentially offensive, but I say it anyway because it's the truth. Humphrey smiles uneasily. Maybe he'd received the message and never kiss my hand again.

"Now that the introductions are out of the way, why don't we get down to business ah?"

This enthusiasm that Humphrey is trying to bring isn't really working on my half. He's already creeped me out. Flynn isn't frowning anymore but instead looks confused. I guess it's better than lingering on sadness. Mary looks unconcerned but watches Humphrey like he's a madman. When he takes a seat next to her, she slides over. Maybe all females got this unnatural feeling around him. The darker rumors are looking truer by the minute.

After a straight hour or more of talking, mostly between Humphrey and Flynn, I excuse myself from the table and search desperately for the room that I was told was "mine" earlier. The discussion was mostly Humphrey explaining all the different things that we would see in the Capitol when we get there. It's boring and, along with the motion of the aircraft, was giving me headache. I wish I had left forty-five minutes earlier when Mary did.

When I find my room, or stumble upon it really, I'm surprised to find my name on a plaque on the door. How quickly could they have made this? Inside is even more remarkable. The word that best fits the design of the room is "plush." They've definitely tried to use themes from District Ten based on the all way too corny, almost retro looking, cow skin bedding but because everything is so comfortable I don't mind.

It's a few minutes later when I discover ALICE, which is a voice operated system that, when I press a button to talk to her, will send me almost anything I request. So when I ask ALICE for an aspirin tablet and it's dispensed from a tube nearby, I ask her again for two more to deal with the new headache that trying to figure out how all of this was possible brings.

I down one aspirin with a bottle of water then lay on the bed. It's bigger than the one I'm used to back in District Ten and much softer. All of my siblings would easily fit on this one, with space to still thrash like they tend to do at night.

It feels empty without them. I wonder how they're doing. It hasn't been more than a few hours since I left but it feels longer. They should be home, hopefully keeping themselves busy. I desperately don't want them to worry about me, even though I'm worried about them. I know it's way too early to be thinking about those crueler what if's but they remain in my thoughts. Every few seconds I remind myself to relax, because if I don't these gloomy scenarios that are forming will eat away at me until I'm hollow right through my heart. Right now my family needs me to be strong, even if I'm not sure I can be. If anything I would have to try for Grace. I made her a promise to take her to the Square, which meant returning from the games. If I fail at keeping the promise I want to die knowing I at least tried. Anything less would be unfair to her and everyone for that matter.

The second and third aspirin pills are gone before night fall. I'm not feeling much of the motion sickness I was before. Actually, I'm not feeling much of anything after downing that third aspirin. I decide it's not safe to take another one for a day or two. The effects, perhaps, are too strong.

Instead of letting my mind wander into the black, scary, crevices of my mind, I just watch aimlessly out of the small airtight window that's in the room from bed. Watch the clouds past by and watch the colors of the room change as the sun goes down. It manages to take my mind of things even though I might be going brain dead. I can't be sure. The aspirin didn't come with any warnings. All I know is I like this feeling a little better than the sadness and unrest.

Sometime in the middle of the night I get up and change into night clothes that I find in a closet. For a very brief second I think of just sleeping nude with how soft the bedding is but then the image of Humphrey Sven kissing my hand wipes that thought away. I put the my dress on a hanger and place it in the closet, then close it. Truly, it's out of place with the eccentric Capitol clothes that are packed in there but I'm too lazy to find another place for it. Sleeping has proven to be an excellent relaxant and I want to continue doing it.

Before I've fully dosed off again, ALICE unexpectedly interrupts what _was_ a previously calming silence, to tell me that I'd be arriving in the Capitol within the next four hours.

Great. So much for falling asleep again I suppose. Restless night it is.


	5. Chapter V

Before Flynn even knocks on my door, I'm wide awake and sitting on the edge of my bed. Nothing in particular is running through my thoughts. I managed to brush my teeth, take a bath, and cloth myself without having a breakdown. I might've gotten some help from the aspirin's I took last night but I still consider this feat a "morning win, " especially after finding a simple blue polk-a-dot dress in the wardrobe usually ridiculously vibrant Capitol clothing.

It's not the simplest dress in all of Panem but it is still pretty simple for Capitol standards. The only thing I'm wearing that isn't from the Capitol is my mothers necklace, which is latched around my neck. I play with it absentmindedly, thinking of my family.

Back home in District 10, my father would've already headed out into the farm. I wonder if he's having the others do my chores? None of my brothers or sisters would be up at this time usually. If my father is going to get help it'll have to be from either Eli or Ma. It would be a shame if Eli would have to quit school to help with the farm, he does pretty well academically, and Ma is too old to contribute too much. Someone will have to fill the void.

With my absence things really will have to change back home and I can't help but feel like I'm letting my father down.

"Robyn," Flynn says from behind the closed door.

He shakes me from my thoughts. I completely forgot he was there. "Rey says we'll be landing in the Capitol in five… That means in five minutes."

I hear him walk down the corridor and I'm briefly puzzled as to who "Rey" is, but then remember it's what Humphrey wanted us to call him.

Flynn doesn't seem to mind but I refuse to call that man anything but his real name. The last thing I want is to form a close knit relationship with my "mentor," even if it means a better chance at survival in the games.

By the time I reach the dining hall everyone is their and the airship is beginning it's descent. The last tablet must be wearing off because anxiety is beginning to build and I haven't even stepped foot in the Capitol yet.

This is far from good.

Probably telling from the look on my face, Flynn asks me if I'm okay.

Somehow I can't speak, so I nod and try not to look like a lunatic. It seems to work.

"Guys I want you to smile and keep your chins up once we step out of the ship," Humphrey says suddenly. "There will be hundreds of reporters and cameras! You need to make a good first impression."

"What do we say?" Flynn asks. He looks concerned but not as rattled as I am.

"You don't have to say anything really but you should smile," Mary chimes in now. "Look pleasant and appealing. I doubt you'll be able to but if you can answer one reporters question, sound confident or try to be funny."

"Cater to the crowd," Humphrey says, "They'll be the ones keeping you alive."

Before I can ask specifically how _I_ can do that, because I'm not confident or funny, I feel the airship shudder and we're on the ground.

Humphrey adjusts his tie, Mary does a little hum, Flynn fixes his hair, and I stay as silent as a mouse. The peacekeepers have us line up. First it's Humphrey, then Flynn, me, and Mary last.

"Ten seconds," Mary says gleefully. At this moment we can't be more two entirely different people. She's excited and I'm absolutely terrified.

I haven't even stepped outside the aircraft yet I can hear the voices of Capitol people. It sounds like a million of them out there. Nothing I hear is understandable and I'm feeling sick. Similar to how I was feeling yesterday but worse. I think of jetting to my room for an aspirin tablet but theirs no chance of that now.

The airship doors shudder open and for a moment I'm blinded by the thousands of flashes that seemingly go off all at once. Everyone wants to be the first to capture a photo of the District Ten tributes I suppose. It doesn't help me relax though. Outrageously loud screaming from the crowd doesn't help either. The noise is paralyzing and I don't move when Flynn and Humphrey do.

Only after being nudged by Mary is when I walk forward, hoping not bump into Flynn or trip or worse, faint. Fainting is very possible right now.

My vision comes to after a couple of seconds but part of me wishes it hadn't after glancing at some of the people in the Capitol. Peacekeepers and metal barricades are holding them back from pouncing on us and I'm unimaginably grateful.

I have no words to describe exactly _how_ they all look but they don't look human to the point where it's scary.

The last thing I need is to have a panic attack in front of all these people who, as Humphrey said, "will be keeping me alive."

Smiling is out of the question as of now. All I'm trying to do is to get to wherever we're going without passing out. Sure hearing my name being called every few seconds from the crowd isn't helpful but I do my best to keep it together.

Flynn doesn't seem to be having a problem with all the massive attention as he has an effortless stride.

This boy that I'm sure was terrified when his name was called during the Reaping, now waves to the people in the crowd. Because I'm behind him I can't tell if he's smiling but I'm sure he is.

Why is this so easy for him but not for me? I feel as stiff as a board. Raising my arm alone is an impossible task right now.

Humphrey is pumping his fist which is just exciting the crowd more.

Why can't he tell this is tormenting me? Why can't these people stop screaming? And why can't they stop taking pictures?

Our destination is the President's mansion and the moment I step inside my body feels heavier. It takes all the will inside me to keep from collapsing on the floor. Luckily the noise, lights and excitement are gone; replaced by quieter voices. The change of atmosphere is good but I still feel faint.

Flynn probably recognizing this comes to my aid. Like on the ship he asks me if I'm okay, then guides me to a sofa.

Humphrey comes shortly after and sits next to me. He takes my hand in his but I'm too tired to feel creeped out and just try to ignore him.

"Whats wrong dear?" He asks. His tone is condescending and set on mocking me.

I'm too tired to punch him or respond quickly like I want to.

After a few long breaths I'm finally able to speak and I make sure my question is straightforward. "Is it always going to be like this?"

Humphrey releases an unnerving grin and says "Oh heavens no my dear… That was the easiest part."


	6. Chapter VI

Somehow I've managed to keep myself in one piece in the President's mansion. While the final two Districts tributes arrive, I'm still sitting on one of the couch's. Every few minutes Flynn comes to check to see if I'm alive. Every time he does I push him away. The last thing I want is him to feel sorry for me.

Very soon he'll be my enemy too. I have to remember that. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to make it out of the Hunger Games in one piece and take Grace to the Square.

"You don't look so good," someone suddenly says. I turn and I'm looking a pale faced, brown eyed boy in the face. It feels like he appeared out of thin air.

It takes me a moment to register he said something to me. This boy looks like a ghost. His skin is that pale and his hair is graying. He can't be older than me and if he is, it can't be by too much. Maybe eighteen and a few months.

"No kidding," I finally say, finished analyzing him for the most part.

"Care to explain why?" He asks.

"I . . ."

Before I can answer his question, which I for some reason feel inclined to do so, Humphrey comes over and steps on the conversation. If there was one that is.

"Robyn looks like you've made an acquaintance," Humphrey says. The way he's eyeing the boy next to me, I assume he doesn't want us to be acquaintances. "District 6, right?"

"Yes indeed," the boy responds. He puts out his hand and Humphrey shakes it, although it doesn't look genuine. The air is tense. "My name is Athelas, I'm a District 6 tribute, nice to meet you."

"Humphrey Sven, District 10, winner of the 82nd Hunger Games and mentor," My "mentor" says. It's on of the most awkward formalities I've ever seen.

The three of us stay in silence for what seems like an eternity, even though it was only a few seconds. Humphrey grills Athelas for a few more seconds before finally talking.

"If you don't mind I would like to speak to my tribute," He says. Athelas leaves without any contempt. He says goodbye and says it was "nice to meet us." I have a feeling I'll be seeing a lot of him. Whether it's good or bad I can't say. Something definitely felt _off_ about Athelas.

"Robyn. what was that?" Humphrey questions me.

"I could ask you the same thing," I respond. "Why were you so defensive?"

My mentor hesitates in answering. "Do you trust me Robyn?"

"Not even for second."

"Then you shouldn't trust him either," he says, and my eyes wander to where the District 6 boy is chatting up someone else.

He's just like Flynn. I have to remember that Athelas is my enemy and why would I want to speak with my enemy?

"Fine, that works in my favor too."

We're in the President's mansion for another half hour before we are escorted to another building. We walk for ten minutes then take an elevator to the tenth floor. It's an apartment or "condo" according to Mary and it's where we will be staying until the games start.

Whether it's called an apartment or condo, the place basically has Capitol written on the walls. I doubt there's anything in this place that you would find in District 10.

Humphrey and Mary have no trouble making themselves at home, although it shouldn't be much of a surprise. They're here every year.

Flynn and I are new to . . . _all of this_.

"Why don't you two go and wash up," Mary suggests. "The entrance ceremony will be airing in an hour, we'll all watch it together and have some brunch."

The word "brunch" makes my stomach churn and I realize I'm pretty hungry. I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday. An entire twenty four hours without eating anything. If Ma knew she would have a fit.

— —

The food in the Capitol is delicious, in every definition of the word. Flavors simply outstanding and taste just as amazing. They have labels on each dish and I find myself returning to the dish labeled "Roast Lamb" every few minutes. Ma wouldn't have to worry any longer. I have eaten for the past two weeks in one serving. There is no way I could've cooked any of the food on the table back in District 10. I don't have access to the same meats or bread, or the culinary skills to make such a banquet possible. This food is luxury only people living in the Capitol have.

Other than filling my very empty stomach, the meal helps soften the blow that watching the entrance ceremony does to my dwindling confidence. While I was looking like a terrified and dismal corpse myself, I can see Flynn made a small impact on the crowd of screaming Capitol people. A reporter did their best at complimenting him but insulting the District males, saying "he's handsome for a boy from District 10," at which Humphrey snorts in disapproval. I can only smile lightly at the comment. Most of the male tributes from District 10 over the past few years weren't exactly "eye candy." They almost all came from a poorer part of our District which didn't harbor the best looking boys.

"Seems like Capitol women are taking a liking to you Flynn me boy!" Humphrey says between gulps of a dark brown looking alcohol, having no problem drinking so early in the day. Flynn blushes and nods at his remarks. Humphrey winks. "Take it from me son, you can use that to your advantage."

I would have to be blind to not notice the quick sober look Humphrey gives me before his eyes return to the television screen. If he wants me to apologize for my behavior at the entrance ceremony he'd have to wait until he was dead… and then some.

If I haven't said it already, I'm satisfied that I stayed conscious through the whole ordeal.

The entrance ceremonies does two things. One it gives the Capitol people an "exclusive" first look at the children they'll be seeing kill each other mercilessly. Two, it gives us tributes the opportunity at getting a first look at the other people we'll be killing mercilessly to get back home. Before the Capitol started altering the Hunger Games for the "new age," also known as the Hunger Games after the Mockingjay rebellion, you usually saw your opponents first when watching the reapings. To make it more interesting for the Capitol people officials of the Hunger Games decided to have a live reaping process in each District. The "live reaping" only lasted a single year.

Why?

It changed because in the first year of the extravagant and "hot" display, a older woman in District 9 was killed on live television to a then very disturbed Capitol audience. Apparently they don't like seeing people kill each other until the Hunger Games. Now it didn't show what happened before or what caused the lady to be executed but seeing a chunk of her head fly off after being shot by a Peacekeeper was enough.

Now of course the President made up an entirely false explanation of why the girl was killed. It was something along the lines of she was "armed" and was going to "kill a Capitol official during the reaping and the Peacekeepers took appropriate actions of neutralize the threat." To the gullible Capitol people this was enough to put the whole thing in the past and get on with their highly anticipated Hunger Games.

We in the Districts know better than to believe the statement given by the President. Especially after the tribute girl from District 9 said in a live interview with Caesar Flickerman that she had very recently lost her mother to unnecessary violence.

Anyway, after that year the officials of the games decided it would be better to show the tributes in an entrance ceremony rather than a live reaping to ensure no "accidents" happen.

If you're wondering the girl from District 9 made it to the final five before being chopped down by a combination of a Career and a mutation. Her revenge was just a little too short lived.

The entrance ceremonies end without too much excitement. I stop paying attention after Flynn and I are shown to be honest. Instead I square my attention to this cold and sweet dish called "ice cream."

"Now that that's over, it's time to move into phase two, starting with your prep teams," Humphrey declares to us.

Busy trying to figure out what I'm eating is made out of other than milk I almost ignore Humphrey. Flynn once again takes the initiative.

"What's a prep team?"

"Well Flynn, a prep team, or your prep team I should say, will help make sure you'll be looking your absolute best before interviews begin and the games itself. When they're done with you, you won't be able to recognize yourself!"

"What exactly are they going to do to me?" Flynn asks, sounding a little uneasy.

"Nothing too extreme," Humphrey says trying to reassure him. "At least I don't think so. They're just going to make sure you make a good impression and look like stud. We aren't talking total facial reconstruction or anything."

Humphrey lets out a hearty and maybe alcohol laced laugh, which Flynn responds with a chuckle of his own but only out of politeness I presume.

"Robyn!" My mentor sudden'y shouts. I look up at him condescendingly, slightly angered he'd interrupt me from eating this godly treat when he knows that I have days before I will not have another opportunity to. Humphrey gives me a condescending look of his own. "You'll be dolled up by your very own prep team. I hope you're ready to take these next few days a little more seriously. You only get this chance once!"

"I'll do what I have to do only if it seems necessary, remember you don't own me or control me," I say before shoving a little more than a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. Humphrey looks at me in a sort of disgust.

"I may not own you but it's my job to keep you alive and I will not answer to your grieving parents when they call and lie to them and say you did everything you could when you didn't! Do you understand me girl?"

"Sure, when does the prep team get here my savior?"

Humphrey curses and throws the glass that he was drinking from on the floor. It shatters I imagine as our servants, also introduced to me as "Avoxes", hurry to clean up the shards of glass. I continue to scrape away at my desert, ignoring Humphrey persistent stares. Mary releases a sigh of mere annoyance at our fighting.

"The prep team has already arrived!" I turn and see six completely complexing colorful individuals. Standing together like they are now, it reminds me of a time Colton knocked over the shelf of paint my dad used to have in the basement. The colors mixed in an odd fashion and instead of looking beautiful it looked like nothing more than a mess. This is exactly how the prep team looks now. Like a big mess.

Hairstyles, clothes, and even their skin look unnatural, which, more likely than not, they are. I have remember I'll be dealing with Capitol now, not people from home. The difference between the two is remarkable.

"Are you ready to be pampered like you never have before," one of the rainbow people asks, standing closer than me than I feel comfortable with. She has green and white hair twirled upwards and unnaturally tanned skin. Her accent is undeniable. I've been told Capitol people sound different than most people but this is unreal. "Well are you?"

Before I can answer, one of the her friends is all over Flynn, who looks just as creeped out as I am. "I'm sure her friend here is ready for some top notch pampering!"

In a matter of a few short minutes, I'm surrounded and being examined by a group of well … I don't have a word for them. You try finding a word for a group of humans, that don't seem like humans, and don't exactly act like humans, but are nonetheless human … somehow. They discuss seemingly my every feature.

The prep team comments about everything about me. Their mouths rattle off words like "dirty, crusty, and messy." Excuse me if I don't have Capitol soap, spas, and showers.

One of the three, who 's name is apparently "Purrtricia," and rightfully so as she has whisker sprouting from some part of her face and purrs like a cat at the end of everything she says, makes comment about my skin. In her mind it's "soiled-urrr." I wonder if she knows I've been playing in soil for my entire life being from District 10 and all? She must have a cats brain too I suppose.

"What do think we should start with Diamanté?" the green and white haired girl asks the only male in the prep team. Although he's so flamboyant he might as well be a girl.

"Uh, I don't even know does a mineral bath sound like a good start Purrtricia?" he asks.

"Sure-urr, it can't hurt-urr," she answers. Seconds later I'm being carried out the dining room by peacekeepers to I have no idea where.

I shake frantically and even call Humphrey for help. He does nothing to aid me, but smiles and waves goodbye. I hear Flynn yell "good luck," before I'm down being carried, more like dragged, down a corridor; the prep team leading the way.

"Luck" isn't what I need right now. What I need is a way out before these three Capitol people do something unspeakable to me … and maybe some more of that "ice cream" stuff.


	7. Chapter VII

They call it pampering.

I call it torture.

"My" prep team has been at it for hours trying to turn me into a Capitol standard girl. Scraping, peeling, shaving, brushing … I'm sure they've done it all. I still don't quite know exactly what a mineral bath is but I've had six of them now.

This is the part of the games the audience never sees and I understand why. For almost the entire time you're naked while the prep team does whatever they deem fit. They don't even let you cover the parts that shouldn't be shown. I'm not sure what's more humiliating, being completely naked in front of these humanoids or the conversation they're having about my body.

I've done my best to ignore the comments they've made but some have been harder than others. I ignored the comments Purtrica made about my "horrendous skin." I ignored Ruby's constant whispers about how "untamed" my hair is. I even ignored Glade's obnoxious remark about how I was especially "top-heavy for a girl from District 10." I don't even know exactly what he meant by that but it didn't make me want to clobber the flamboyant fool any less. The last thing I need is another Korran. I have enough troubles as it is.

As much as I'm being pricked and prodded, I manage to stay relatively calm. Every so often I absentmindedly play with my mothers necklace, which is becoming a bad habit very fast. Although, for a bad habit, it puts me at ease sometimes. Given that if I'm playing with it, at the same time I'm probably thinking about home. Which might not be so positive but I dare someone to try to lecture me about it.

When you're dropped in entirely new surroundings after being stripped from one you've been accustomed to since the day you were born, you're bound to be homesick. The longest I've ever gone without speaking to at least one person in my household was less than a day.

It's been well more than that now and even though the Capitol is luxurious, I miss the fields. It's funny how you take things for granted. Now that I'm away from the cows, the chickens, the people from District 10, and just the smell of crops, I feel incomplete without it. Having one of those usually boring conversations with my father feels like it would be a real prize. Or even cooking breakfast for everyone. Once ponderous tasks are all I want to do at the moment.

It sure beats being "pampered" by three inconclusively human beings.

"What she needs is good waxing, don't you think Ruby?" Purtricia is apparently having a hard time removing hair from my lower leg. I don't see why it's necessary. "It would get all these pesky tiny hairs off of her, most certainly!"

"Oh! Maybe we can use the new laser method on her and zap them off! Ugh, but it would mean having to get the team from District One to let us use it. Gosh, I swear they always get the best stuff!" Ruby is annoyed. I'm relieved my body won't be zapped by lasers. Trust me, it's been through enough procedures today.

"Girls what do you think I should do with her hair?" Glade is precariously fondling my hair. I've asked myself the same question in the bath hundreds of times. Every time I thought of cutting it Grace would have a fit. I can't be seen in the house with a pair of scissors or that little girl will fret.

"It's really nice actually. She's pretty different from the 10 girls we had in the past. If you clean it up and maybe curl it, might be nice." Another subtle insult to my District by Ruby. Might as well keep score now, I can barely do anything else with these people hassling me.

"It would mean dealing with all these split ends though," Glade complains.

"I don't know maybe cut it," Purtricia suggests. Grace wouldn't like Purtricia very much.

"I guess I could, her hair is pretty long already. It reaches right down to her bum. A trim would be a good start I guess. Hopefully I'll get a fabulous idea after doing that, my creative juices need a refill after so many losers."

I wonder what would happen if I punched a garish Capitol hairdresser. Maybe they'd take me out of the Hunger Games? I doubt it and remain stiff as a board but brooding nonetheless.

Those "losers" were from home and even though I might've not known them personally they still matter. They had families and friends just like I do. In District 10 we respect the dead, especially those who were cursed into the Hunger Games. It's stuns me how disconnected Capitol people are to us. It gives me the right to question if they are human or not. Maybe they're just oblivious?

At this point I don't know what to think.

My thoughts wander and I begin to wonder how different it would be if the Mockingjay rebellion succeeded. Maybe Katniss Everdeen stood for something like that. It's a lot better than thinking about her neck snapping to right at her execution. I know she failed and at the same time made if worse for the Districts but I still wonder exactly what she was fighting for now.

"Those are thoughts that could send you to an early grave," is what Ma would say if I asked her that, I'm sure. Well, I'm just about dead now. I think I'm ready for that answer.

"Well what do want to do girl, don't just sit there mouth sealed!" It takes me a moment to realize Glade is talking to me now.

"I want to go back home," I answer.

"You'll be back in the apartment soon girl I mean't about your …"

"Not there, I mean _home_, back in District 10."

"Well that's easy girly, win the Hunger Games, duh!"

"Easy for you to say," I mutter.

"Anyway, I was talking about your hair, what do you want me to do with it?"

"Do as you wish, I don't care."

"Great!"

I try ignore the sting and indignity as Glade slaps me on the butt. He pulls me over to what I guess is his station dedicated to hair. He juggles with all kinds of funny looking items before deciding on a big pair of clippers.

I sit motionless. I'll let these freaks do anything they want to me. Fighting it is futile. That's my conclusion. As I feel the light tug at the back of my hair, I reach for my mothers necklace.

— —

Daylight has turned into darkness. Glade has been working on my hair for longer than I thought possible. I'm not even stunned at how much of it is on the ground around me. What does surprise me is the silence in the room. As the day progress the prep team started chatting less and less. Purtricia has even gone back to the apartment too. I've been in the prep center for so long they had Avox's bring me dinner down here. They even gave me a towel to cover myself with too.

The energy from earlier has completely died down. It's more my speed now and I appreciate the change in the air.

"So, do you have anyone special back home?" Glade suddenly feels talkative. Maybe I spoke too soon.

"I have five brothers and two sisters."

"Ugh, no girl, I don't mean your family, I mean like a very special someone."

"I don't understand."

"You must be some kind of eye candy back in your District, you guys don't have the best looking girls to be honest. At least judging by the girls in the past."

I'm about to say something very obscene to my hair stylist when Humphrey comes bursting through the door. He looks out of order. His hair is a mess and his suit is wrinkled. The look he's giving me is creepy and I instantly remember I'm only covering myself with a towel.

"Good to see you Robyn, you're looking … natural." The wink he gives me at the end of that question makes bile rise in my throat but I somehow manage to keep from vomiting.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Relax, I just wanted to talk. Trust me when I say I had no idea you were … like this."

"Sure you didn't."

"Glade, do you think my mentee and I could talk in private for just a few minutes?"

The hair stylist puts down the scissors and walks out the door, closing it behind him. I wish he didn't leave. I don't like being alone with Humphrey, especially now that the only thing covering my body is a towel.

"What is this about?"

He doesn't answer my question but instead smiles and begins to walk around the room. I monitor his every move. I. Don't. Trust. Him.

"You know Robyn, you don't have to be so defensive around me."

"What is this about?"

"Straight to the point just like … never mind. Anyway darling, I'm here to tell you about tomorrow."

"Go on with it then!"

"Did I tell you how different you look? You're radiant as can be."

"What about tomorrow Humphrey!"

"Tomorrow, you and Flynn have been selected to be apart of a panel."

"A panel?"

"Yes my dear, a panel. Similar to an interview and you as well as Flynn and I will be apart of it."

"What'll we be doing?"

"Oh you know, answering questions, telling the people more about yourself, pandering to the crowd … that kind of thing. Don't worry I'll help you both through it."

"Did you tell Flynn about this already?"

"Yes, but I wanted to talk to you especially after this morning."

"Why waste your time on me when Flynn is a budding star."

"One, I'm here to mentor two tributes. Two, have you ever had a conversation with Flynn? If you have you'd realize why I'm giving you more attention."

"I'm not so sure it's because Flynn is bad as conversation as much as it is you're a womanizer looking for more pray."

The words slip out of my mouth effortlessly but Humphrey's face becomes very stern and I shift uneasily in my seat. I'm clutching this towel for dear life.

"You have preconceived ideas about me darling, it's obvious, and I don't blame you for them. But you should know, ones reputation doesn't tell their whole story."

With that last final note, my mentor leaves the room and I'm left with more questions about the man.

Glade comes back in the room soon after and continues working on my hair. He finishes it in silence and let's out nothing but a sigh when he takes a final look at his work.

I look in a mirror and for a second I don't recognize myself. My hair, once tremendously long, is now barely grazing the small of the back of my neck. I look at myself for a few more seconds before deciding I absolutely love it. Sure, I won't admit to Glade that he did a great job but he really did. If the hair stylist wasn't so obnoxious I might've actually thanked him.

I wonder if my family will recognize me, looking like this and all?

They give me a robe to wear before I go back to my room. It must be pretty late, because when I go back to the apartment most of the lights are out. I try to carefully make my way back to my room but almost trip over something in the dark. After a moment my eyes adapt to the darkness and I make out a form on the ground.

I recognize arms, legs, and the back of someone's head. At first I think it's Humphrey, piss drunk and passed out after failing to get back to his room but the body is too small to his.

Then it hits me all at once with such force my heart begins to race. I grab for the persons wrist then wait but I don't feel a pulse and I realize in total horror that I've stumbled upon the lifeless body of the male tribute from District 10, my district partner . . . I've stumbled upon the lifeless body of Flynn Garrison.


	8. Chapter VIII

Humphrey's locked me in my room under claims that I was too hysterical and would be no help. The situation however is very grim. I got that much from the agitated look on his face right before he managed to lock me in here.

It's been more than four hours since then but I can't sleep. Trying to rest is useless when you're worried. Even more so now that the sun is rising. I don't even care if I'm sluggish throughout the day, I'm more concerned with whether or not Flynn is okay. By "okay," I mean still alive.

Throughout the night, I tried to remember whether or not I felt a pulse before I screamed frantically for help. I know his body was cold. Very cold. From past experiences, I know that doesn't bode well.

I'm pacing back and forth in my room, something I haven't done in a long time. It's a bad habit, one that only brings back terrible memories. The last time I paced like this it was when I was seven and my mother had run off again. My dad like the good husband he tried to be went out to find her. He came back alone that night.

Now I'm pacing, contemplating whether or not I had found a dead body. I hope he isn't dead. That's a nightmare I'm not yet ready to face.

Twenty minutes later, when I have already broken into a light sweat from walking back and forth, is when Humphrey opens the door and walks in.

"Is he…" I begin to say before my mentor shakes his head.

"He's alive."

I breathe the largest sigh of relief and sit on the bed. Then all at once I want to know everything and I have to tell myself to slow down before all the questions come spilling out of my mouth. Humphrey looks stressed out and exhausted. I don't want to bury him in a heap of my own curiosity. But there's something I must know.

"What happened last night?"

My mentor shrugs, then walks over and sits next to me. For once I'm not creeped out or appalled. I don't think he's making a move on me like I do whenever he's around. He doesn't seem like himself as he sits next to me now, his palms encasing his temples. It's a few minutes before Humphrey finally answers my question. When he does I'm left in disbelief.

"The doctors say he tried to kill himself," he mutters and as the words slip out of his mouth I need no other reason as to why Humphrey is so down. A tribute he was mentoring tried to end their life before the games even began. That would be hard for anyone to deal with.

I got my answer and we sit in silence for a while. I'm terrible in situations like these. Being able to comfort someone wasn't a particular skill I had. Instead of trying to be something I'm not, after some time has passed, I ask another question. It may not be the most considerate thing to do at the moment but I'm trying to figure out how all of this happened. He's been with Flynn; I've been jailed in a room.

"Did you know he was…"

"Suicidal?" Humphrey looks up at me and his eyes are bloodshot. "I knew he wasn't in the best mindset after speaking to him some on the airship but I didn't think he'd…"

"Go this far," I finish. The fact it was attempted suicide shocks me too. Flynn seemed compassionate and optimistic in the few moments I spoke to him. If you told me he was capable of this yesterday I'd say you didn't really know him. The truth was I didn't really know him.

"The boy is terrified and angry Robyn. He doesn't want to go to the games. In his mind he's already dead."

"Is this what you meant when you spoke to me yesterday… about why you were giving me more attention?"

"This is exactly why. I can't help someone who already thinks they're dead no matter how hard I try. You're fighting for something, for family."

"And Flynn?"

"He doesn't want to fight. He has no will to fight Robyn. And can you blame him? He's only fourteen, practically a child."

As soon as he finishes the sentence, men in white suits burst into my room. Heavily armed Peacekeepers in full armor enter and Humphrey rises from the bed. I sit still.

"Humphrey Sven," one of the Peacekeepers says, his voice is loud and deep. I think he's the captain based on the patches he has on his suit unlike the others who have stormed into my room. That and he simply looks important. "We are here to escort you out, into the Capitol."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Humphrey's voice echoes and it makes me shiver. The Peacekeeper captain doesn't move but does make a sour face. "I'm a Victor and I'm having a private conversation with one of my tributes! How dare you invade our privacy!"

"I'm sorry for interrupting sir, however we have direct orders that must be carried out as quickly as possible."

"And where do you think you're taking me?"

"To the Central Cathedral Building to meet with the Head Gamemaker."

"Shit! What the hell could Finesse want at a time like this?"

A sly grin suddenly emerges from the Peacekeeper's Captain's face and I shiver again. "If you're asking me to guess sir, I'd assume it'd have something to do with your other tribute."

I can't help but notice Humphrey clench his fist and I hope he doesn't do anything stupid or impulsive.

"Fine, take me to that bitch! This day keeps getting better and better." Humphrey suddenly turns back around to look at me. He looks even more stressed than when he walked in here. The life of a Victor must not be so easy. "Robyn did you have anything else to talk about?"

I try to think of anything else to ask him. Most of the questions that come to mind at first seem no longer appropriate to ask now. He's about to leave when I think of an important one that might not be so terrible to ask at a time like this.

"You mentioned an interview yesterday, are we still doing it?"

Humphrey curses then strokes his beard, contemplating. "Yes we'll still do it. the media will be all over this anyway, might as well give them one less reason to talk. I promise to be here in time to prep you, in the mean time rest up. Everything will be fine. I should be back in a few hours."

With those final words of encouragement Humphrey leaves with the rest of the Peacekeepers and I exhale lightly. I definitely need sleep right now yet I feel restless. For a brief second I think about taking one of those nerve and mind numbing aspirin pills but realize that's probably not such a good idea but then another idea comes to mind.

After yesterday I don't feel the need to shower today. Instead I brush my teeth and put on new, not too extravagant, clothes and go to the dining room hoping Mary's there to tell me more about Flynn. My wish goes unfulfilled, as there's no one there except an Avox who stands at attention. He looks the same age as me, maybe older. I wonder what he could've done to be here. Back in District 10 I've heard stories of children of traitors in the Mockingjay rebellion being taken to the Capitol and turned into servants. Looking at this Avox boy, with little to no expression on his face, I wonder what's his story and wonder what mine will be like.

I return to my room, suddenly feeling a little less restless than I did before.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Hello lovely readers, sorry for the delay and the shortness of this Chapter.<em>**

**_Chapter 8 really stumped me and I spent a long time trying to get it to a point where I felt satisfied posting it. (Obviously a long time & I'm still unsure but I decided not to postpone it any longer. In any case I might edit it later on as I do with most chapters.)_**

**_It's really meant to serve as a bridge between Chapter 7 & 9, so I'm sorry if it was a little anticlimactic. _**

**_Chapter 9 is already in the works and I promise it'll be better than this one. So stay tuned!_**

**_I also want to say thank you to all who have favorited, followed, and/or posted reviews! It really pushes me to become a better writer and I can't even begin to tell you how much I appreciate it. _**

**_(contemplating if theres anything else I want to say to you all lol but I think I'll just post the Chapter already)_**

**_Thanks Again & see you soon!_**

**_- Sinnocencex _****_X)_**


	9. Chapter IX

They have me in a waiting room now. It's a little more peaceful here.

From the moment we left, everyone asked for Flynn or about him and each time they do I had no idea what to say. I realize very quickly exactly what Humphrey meant when he said the media would be all over this. Every time a reporter asked me about Flynn I had no answer to give them. Mary handled most of the reporters for me and I couldn't be more thankful. She's better prepared for them than I ever could've been.

We managed to get all the way to one of the Capitol's broadcasting centers without giving the media a direct answer about what happened to the "tribute boy from District 10."

Now I sit and wait in this visitors area with the prep team and Mary. The prep team has already "made me up" for the interview. All I do now is wait anxiously for Humphrey's arrival. I can't imagine all went well with the meeting with the Head Gamemaker. I don't think they've had a tribute try to kill them-self with all the attention they're giving it.

My mothers necklace is in my palm again.

Humphrey said he'd be back in time for us to practice for the interview. He's fifteen minutes late. I can't think of a worse time for him to be late. This is one of very few times I would ask him for guidance and he is no where to be found.

The interview is being held by Tylineus Finkle who also serves as a broadcaster of the Hunger Games. He was once an assistant and protege of Casear Flickerman. I guess when his mentor's image became sour after the Mockingjay Rebellion, he made it into the spotlight as a possible replacement. Now he has is own show and his popularity is rising fast within the Capitol. He's no Caesar Flickerman, who's since rebuilt his image but every star burns out and Tylineus is on the upswing right now. (This is all information I've gathered from Glade and Purtricia if you're wondering.) I haven't spoke much since I've gotten to the studio but my ears are in service.

Someone knocks on the door and we all turn. Mary lets the person know they can come in. The door opens and its Finkle's assistant Kytana. I always wondered what my life would be like if I was a Capitol girl. Kytana fits my best bet. She first showed us to the visitors area when got here and I was surprised when she told Mary she was seventeen when the escort asked. Kytana looks so much older. Her face is covered with makeup that makes her look doll like. I assume it's supposed to make her look younger but she's already so young that it has an opposite effect. The clothes she wears is just like any other Capitol outfit you'd find. Outrageously colorful and completely over the top. However I can't say too much now that I'm wearing something all too similar.

"Any word from Mr. Sven?" With all the makeup she's wearing she basically has the same facial expression but from the tone of her voice she sounds concerned.

"No dear, please give us fifteen more minutes, victor's usually like to make a entrance when they arrive. I guess being late is apart of Rey's." The way Mary says Humphrey's name makes her sound irritated with him. This must happen more often than I know of.

"I see but if you could contact him please do, Mr. Finkle is getting a little ... impatient," Kytana says, sounding uneasy. She leaves abruptly after pressing on a device in her ear; another task awaiting her services I guess.

"If Humphrey doesn't show up soon, you'll have to do the interview yourself Robyn. Only victors and there tributes are allowed," Mary tells me. "I can't go up with you."

"Hopefully he'll show up in time," I say.

"Don't count on it, that man has a history of being unpredictable. I wouldn't be surprised if we don't see him till the games begin."

"Well, hopefully—"

Mary gives me a look that stops me from continuing to argue or even speak for that matter. I just listen to what she has to say.

"Hoping will get you nowhere. Thoughts are not visible. Actions, something tangible, that will get you somewhere."

— —

The director tells me in five minutes "we go live." My mothers necklace is sealed in my palm and all I can keep thinking is "Where is Humphrey?" Maybe I'm foolish for thinking I could count on him. When I came here I told myself not to trust him. What did I turn around and do? Trust him.

Now I'm sitting on a couch next to little man with half mint, half hot pink colored hair and green eyes to match. Finkle is all decked out in a full silver suit with a pink tie. He reads over a script given to him by Kytana who he tells to "keep to the schedule next time!"

I can't believe she deals with an attitude from a "man" practically the size of twelve year old boy. I'm a little tall for a girl but I shouldn't be towering above him. Although his height is probably the least strange thing about him.

"Anything in particular you want to talk about darling?" Finkle smiles a creepy smile. I think he might be trying to make me feel comfortable but he's doing the exact opposite. I'm not meeting his stare instead I focus on one of the many cameras in this studio. There are so many. I wouldn't have guessed there was so much production behind such a simple show. "Robyn, is there anything you would like to speak about?"

"Not that I know of," I answer. "I thought you'd ask the questions."

"That's fine darling, I just wanted to know if you wanted to tell the audience anything special. Maybe some recent _developments or news_ …"

Finkle is trying to pry information about Flynn out of me. He'd have to try harder.

"No, no news."

If I struck a bad chord, Finkle certainly didn't show it. The directer says thirty seconds until we are live. Finkle mumbles as he reads through some notes. A staff member takes moves my hands from my mothers necklace and tells me to keep my hands in my lap and to smile. He attaches a microphone to my dress before darting away off the stage.

Four. Three. Two.

"Finkle you old bastard how are you?" Appearing almost out of thin air is Humphrey, looking trimmed and well dressed. Completely different from the mess he looked like just a few hours ago. He plops himself in the seat next to me and before I can protest his left arm is around me. I smile so that I don't scream.

"Always the showman Mr. Sven," Finkle says, then turns to the cameras. "Welcome everyone to the 99th Annual Hunger Games!"

Humphrey leans over and I want to move but something keeps me in place. "Speak clearly, don't stare at the cameras, and lie if you have to," my mentor whispers into my ear. He's so close I feel his lip brush my ear before he pulls back and I try not to be sick. Whether it was intentional or not, I'm still disgusted. I'm not sure how I'm still smiling.

"Today we have two special guests from District Ten!" Humphrey Sven, a devilishly handsome victor of the 82nd Hunger Games, and one of his tributes, the equally if not more attractive Robyn Albourne!"

A fake or pre recorded applause plays in the studio. Literally, other than the camera crew and the people coordinating, there is no one around. No audience of Capitol people or people of any kind. The must've recorded the sound from past interviews. When the noise simmers Finkle speaks again.

"Let's start with you Humphrey. How have you been, it's been a year since we last spoke hasn't it old friend?"

Humphrey smiles endearingly. "Oh Ty, same old same old, you know how it goes."

Finkle laughs and nods. "Really? Well you've certainly stepped out of the spotlight these past few months. Are the party boy antics settling down?"

"I'm getting older Ty, a little seasoned since my younger days if you will—"

"Please Rey, you don't look a day over thirty, really you look good!"

"Ah, maybe, but I've slowed down a little."

"Settling down looking a little more conceivable now?" Finkle and Humphrey simultaneously let out very hearty and, too real, laughs. The audience does too. I've missed out of some kind of inside joke. When they settle down some the focus quickly switches to me.

"A good catch up is in order my friend, I'm sure viewers would like to know what a bachelor like you have been up to, but lets get to the absolutely stunning young lady you've brought with you today," Finkle says emphatically. "Her name is Robyn Albourne ladies and gentleman, don't you forget it!"

Three seconds. It took me three seconds to realize that was my cue to speak. A nudge from Humphrey gets my heart beating again.

"Oh … you're too kind," I say, then smile. My recovery was far from flawless.

"Please, you must get that all the time back home."

"Not often, you'd be um … surprised."

"The boys back home a little shy I suppose?"

"Yes, I guess you can say that." Truthfully I turn them all away.

"Well for good reason, it's intimidating for some people to simply approach a girl of your class and to talk to you, oh, they might as well faint! I'm feeling a little hot talking to you now, haha!" Finkle pulls at his collar and some sort of whistle sound plays throughout the studio. I continue smiling. "But that man next to you must have no problem talking you up, does he darling?"

"Definitely not," I respond a little too quickly. Humphrey grins but probably out of spite. The fake audience begins to laugh.

"Just jeering you Rey, but seriously, what do think old of your tribute?"

"I think she has—," Humphrey begins to say but Finkle cuts him off, having something more important to say.

"Wait before you answer! I mean do you think about her chances of winning, not about her magnificent breasts!"

Sounds of laughter bursts into the studio. These imaginary people are having a blast. Humphrey face turns red but I'm not convinced sure its out of embarrassment, although he is beaming. Finkle chuckles as Humphrey air chokes him playfully. I continue smiling. Capitol television is strange.

The laughter dies down after a minute. Finkle continues the segment.

"Ah, good times, but in all seriousness and I mean it this time. Humphrey what do you think of Robyn's chances of winning this years Hunger Games?"

"Tylineus, I really think she has a good shot of winning. Other than being charming, Robyn has real heart and I think she has the same chance as any tribute in this years crop."

"Wow, high praise Rey, there are some real contenders this year though! District Two has put out its best. Do you really think she can compete?"

Sudden "ooohhss" come from the nonexistent crowd, giving the effect that Finkle said something serious or provocative to challenge what Humphrey said. The lights on the stage change to a blue color and dim. Finkle leans in closer. Capitol television is strange.

"I know she can and you'll see that the moment she's launched into the arena," Humphrey answers confidently. I have no time to wonder if he really feels this way as Finkle throws out his next question. This time its for me.

"And what do you think Robyn? Do you think you can compete?"

"I think so."

"_You think?_" The short man challenges me and I'm too slow to respond. Prep would've help me for moments like these, I'm sure. Damn Humphrey for being late! Finkle asks another question to keep the segment going but in my mind I already feel like I messed up. "Well what do you _think_ about your competition?"

I respond quickly this time.

"There's not much to think about." I don't know where the answer came from but I think I heard it on a Capitol announcement one time.

"Ah, I see you have a little zest in your repertoire," Finkle exclaims. "Are you saying they don't pose a threat to you?"

Humphrey speaks fast like to stop me from saying something stupid. "What she means to say is the other tributes should be ready for her as she will be for them. And as I said before Robyn has heart and really does have a good shot at winning."

"I see." Finkle nods approvingly, apparently finished with all his challenges for this interview. "Well Robyn, you certainly have a good man mentoring you, a lot of heart, and you're as beautiful as they come. Can we have a round of applause for this remarkable young lady?"

On cue the applause comes and when Finkle puts up his hands it stops. We get up from are seats and the colorful short man continues.

"Humphrey thank you for being here, it's always a pleasure and a riot to see you!"

More applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen, once again, our honorable victor from District Ten Humphrey Sven, and this years female tribute and his protege, the beautiful Robyn Albourne! May the odds be ever in your favor!"

More, much louder, applause. Finkle shakes Humphrey's hand and then, before I can move enough muscles to make a fist to punch this this short, glittery, little man in the head, he plants an awfully wet kiss on my mouth.

"Thank you all for watching and tune in later today for another exclusive tribute interview!"

Finkle blows kisses to the crowds.

Even louder applause.

The director yells "clear" and then everything comes to a halt.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to be sick.

Capitol television is weird.


	10. Chapter X

"Where the hell in Panem were you?" I scream at the man known as Humphrey Sven, who I'm not quite sure I know all too well. I'll acknowledge that I don't _really_ want to get to know him but I do really want to know why he was late.

"Lower you voice child," he says closing the waiting room door. "That guy out there will make a story out of anything and you can sure as hell bet there are camera's in here ready to turn a heated exchange into a blaze of media attention and gossip. You and I both know we're trying to avoid the spotlight right now.

My anger suddenly quickly turns to worry as the thought of Flynn crosses my mind.

"You went to see him again before the interview?"

My mentor nods and sits on the love seat, then pats the spot next to him. I sit next to him albeit a little reluctantly.

He sighs, clears his throat, then inches closer to me. "He's in hospital under watch by some of the Hunger Game officials."

"How is he?"

Humphrey sighs again. "Well for a fourteen year that tried to take his own life last night, I'd say he's doing … okay. I didn't get much out of him other than he wishes he was dead."

I try to digest the new information when Mary speaks up.

"I thought you were going to see the Head Gamemaker, Rey," She says quizzically. "Weren't you supposed to be going to the Central Cathedral Building?"

"I met with her but at the hospital, she went to check on Flynn. We had a pretty long chat."

"About what?" I ask and he turns to me again.

"About you and Flynn, about the Games, and some history," He says.

"Some history?"

"Yep, some history, events in the past." He smiles wearily.

"Like what?"

Mary steps in again. "Like whether or not they'll be seen together after the Games."

Glade and Purrtricia cover there mouths to keep from laughing. I don't get the joke.

"What do you mean," I ask even more confused than before.

"That's enough Mary," Humphrey beams. "It's not important Robyn."

My mentor holding back information doesn't exactly sit right with me but I try to get over it by changing the subject back to Flynn.

"Fine, keep your secrets. I want to know when I'll get to see Flynn."

"Soon, he should be leaving the hospital tonight. It's good that you want to be there for him. I don't think I can be much help to him, maybe you can."

— —

The prep team prepares a mineral bath for me when we get back to the apartment.

"Take a long soak in there, your skin still needs some work," Ruby says before scampering out of my room.

I test the water and it's warm. Pursing my lips first but then releasing a defeated groan, I undress and sit in the tub. A soak should be the least troubling thing to do and admittedly it does feel pretty good.

After twenty minutes I'm neck deep in the bath. I may be enjoying this too much but I don't care.

Somehow I figure out how to turn on the television that's in the bathroom and end up watching some of the other tributes interviews.

I recognize the pale boy on the screen as the segment. Next to him is a very thin girl maybe about 14 with short dark brown hair, strong cheek bones and jawline. Then next to her is a woman who's about the same size with curly black hair with bangs, and a rounder face.

Tylineus starts the interview. "Welcome back everyone to Finkle! Joining us now are the tributes from District 6, ladies and gentlemen Athelas Tunnel and Lilith Link with there mentor, winner of the 84th Hunger Games, Alexa Vune!"

The fake applause isn't that noticeable when watching on TV than it is in person.

"Let's start with you Alexa," Finkle chimes. "It's been another 365 since I've last seen you darling, how are you?"

"I'm doing well Ty, can't complain," Alexa answers endearingly.

"You just celebrated a birthday recently didn't you?"

Alexa smiles. "I did actually. I turned 27 two months ago." The audience cheers. "I invited you to my party Finkle but you didn't show."

The audience oohs and Finkle smirks. "I've been busy sweetheart, I'm so sorry I couldn't make it but I bet I can guess who was in attendance. He was on the show earlier."

Alexa is still smiling but it seems forced now. "Who are you referring to Ty, you know I'm not great at riddle's."

Finkle winks and says "Oh a certain playboy that you were linked to not too long ago."

He doesn't have to say it's Humphrey. Everyone including the fake audience probably knows it's Humphrey.

"No _he_ wasn't there but he did send a very nice gift and I'll say it again, we're strictly friends," Alexa tells the prying reporter.

"_Just friends_ the girl who crawled out of the fire says," Finkle lingers, gathering more oohs from the audience. "Moving on, Ms. Vune let's introduce you're two new pupils. Let's start with you young man!"

The spotlight quickly turns to Athelas who's brooding. It takes him a moment to realize that was his cue. (It's assuring to know I'm not the only one.)

"Hi, I'm Athelas … from District 6," He stutters out, obviously nervous. Rightly so.

"Well, we know that already sport," Finkle points out, "tell the people about yourself."

"What people," Athelas mutters bemused.

Probably realizing her student is bombing his interview Alexa tries to help. "Why don't you tell the _people_ about your job back home?"

Athelas looks at his mentor briefly then turns back to Finkle. "Fine. Well, back in District 6 I was an engineer in training."

"Interesting and tell us about your family back home," Finkle pushes.

"Okay. I lived with my mother, father, and younger brother." Athelas isn't doing great at keeping the conversation going but this doesn't stop Finkle from trying to pry.

"Do you have a special someone you're fighting for, maybe a special sweetheart?"

"Other than my family who's in mourning right now? No."

Finkle seems to wince at his answer. "I see … ANYTHING you want the people watching to know Athelas?"

"No."

"Okay, a man of few words. Respectable. Moving on!" It's easy to see Finkle is trying to change the mood and very well save the show. Athelas basically sucked the energy from the fake audience. "How about you, tell us about yourself Lilith!"

The attention is now focused on the thin girl with the strong features who looks mortified.

Her voice is like a whisper and the microphone barely picks up her words. "Hello."

"Helllloooo, how are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Can I ask you something Lilith?"

Lilith looks at her mentor then back at Finkle and nods nervously.

"Has anyone ever told you, you should be a model?" The questions gather oohs from the crowd. "I mean you have such pretty eyes and the face of a top model? Am I right ladies and gentlemen?"

The crowd cheers approvingly.

Lilith is blushing. "No, no one has ever told me that but thank you."

"It's my pleasure dear, you are quite stunning how old are you?"

"I'm fourteen."

"_Only fourteen?_" Finkle is really trying to work this. "Such a stunner at only fourteen, wow."

"She's not only pretty Ty," Alexa chimes in, "she's very smart for her age too. Her …"

The bathroom door suddenly opens and all my attention turns to Humphrey who's standing in the doorway.

Fear. Anger. Outrage. All of these emotions swirled into one are running through my entire being as I frantically try to cover myself.

"GET OUT NOW!" I scream. His expression doesn't change.

"Please Robyn don't flatter yourself. You have nothing worth hiding that I haven't already seen before," He calmly yet condescendingly says.

It may be the fact that he's so placid or the fact that the nearest towel is closer to him than it is to me but I couldn't feel more overwrought. It doesn't help my anger settle either.

"LEAVE RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR I'LL MAKE YOU REGRET BEING BORN YOU ABSOLUTELY REVOLTING SICKO!"

No change in expression. "We have another interview this evening, apparently you did something right this morning."

Now the prep team materializes behind him and comes inside the bathroom and I'm about to lose it.

"Two interviews in one day, you're a rising star Robyn," Glade exclaims. I've never wanted to hit him more.

"I'M GIVING YOU ALL TEN SECONDS!"

Still no change in expression. He just sighs. "You know it's downright impossible to be threatening while naked right?"

I launch a bar of soap, my nearest and only weapon, at his head but it just explodes after hitting the wall next him. He sighs again and leaves.

"Four hours until the broadcast, be mentally prepared," His voice fades away.

I look up at the remaining three people invading what little privacy I have and I'm ready to start a second attack on them but realize it's futile. And it's the prep team. They've practically seen every inch of me already as sickening as that makes me feel.

Before long they're discussing how they should makeup my face, what I should wear to grab the most attention, and whether I should have a sexy & edgy look or a more concealed and mysterious look.

In short the little relaxation I was beginning to enjoy is vanquished.

When I look back at the television Finkle is wrapping up the interview with District 6. He kisses Athelas on the cheek and by the look on the boy's face he doesn't seem to enjoy it. A commercial about makeup comes on and the show is over just as the prep team has me scurry out the bath and into wardrobe.

* * *

><p><strong><em>HI. OKAY I KNOW IT'S BEEN MORE THAN A YEAR SINCE I UPLOADED AND I'M STILL UNSURE IF I'LL FINISH THIS STORY BUT I WAS LOOKING THROUGH MY COMPUTER AND FOUND THIS (CHAPTER 10). I FINISHED IT AGES AGO AND FIGURED I MIGHT AS WELL UPLOAD IT. <em>**

**_I'M ALSO KINDA REMINISCING ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVED FAN FICTION. ='( _**

**_ANYWHO, THANK TO THE FEW PEOPLE THAT FOLLOWED AND FAVORITED VISIBLE & FLIGHT OF THE CROW. I APOLOGIZE FOR NOT FINISHING THE STORIES. MAYBE I'LL TRY TO BUT I CAN'T PROMISE. _**

**_- SINNOCENCEX _**

**_01-18-16_**

**_P.S HAPPY NEW YEAR _**

**_ =D _**


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